


Ricochet -Carl Grimes-

by vada_w



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by The Walking Dead, Multi, Original Character(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-12-21 07:26:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11939220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vada_w/pseuds/vada_w
Summary: "There are no happy endings,there are only endings."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not going to follow the show word for word, so I have changed up a few things. I hope you guys like this first chapter and I'd love some feedback! :)

The cold soaked through Milly's blanket, chilling her skin. She shivered against the hard floor, pulling her knees to her chest. She looked longingly at the empty bed and then ducked her head underneath the blanket.

Despite the drowsiness that was settled deep inside of her, she couldn't bring herself to doze off. Milly heaved a defeated sigh and crawled out from underneath the cover.

She stood unsteadily, her chest rattling as she breathed. Suppressing a cough, she made her way to the fireplace at the foot of the bed. Milly rarely lit it, only using it when absolutely necessary due to the lack of firewood.

The match sparked and an orange flame grew at the end of it. With a moments hesitation, she threw the match into the fireplace.

She drew the blanket over her shoulders like a cape and walked into the kitchen. Milly flung cabinet doors open, searching for the tea kettle she had seen when she found the house weeks before.

The bedroom was warming up when she returned, the flames dancing along the crackling wood. She hung the kettle on the hook above the flames, and carefully poured a bottle of water inside.

A fit of coughs wracked through her body, forcing her to double over and hit her knees. The blanket pooled around her shaking form, no longer acting as a shield against the cold. Milly took deep breaths trying to calm the coughs, her forehead resting against the cold surface of the floor.

She gathered what little energy she had and brought herself to her feet. Her health wasn't in good shape, she knew that. And she knew that if she stayed there any longer, she was going to die.

The kettle shook as she poured the water into her mug, the tea bags darkening in color. Water splashed over the edge of the cup and onto her wrist, blistering the skin.

"Son of a bitch," Milly yelped, nearly dropping the kettle.

Her wrist ached, a blister forming only moments later. She sipped the tea, hoping the warmth would ease her irritated throat.

The bright white of snow shone through the curtains, lighting up corners of the room that not even the fire could reach. The warmth of the fire wrapped around her ankles as her feet padded across the floor, carrying her to the window.

Drawing the curtain back, she peeked outside. There was nothing moving, dead or alive. Originally she had planned to stay put as long as possible, but that time was coming to an end. She needed to move, maybe find some people.

Milly let the curtain fall, having seen enough of the snow. She heaved a sigh, feeling her lungs shiver with the effort. She needed more than tea and she wasn't going to find that by staying put.  
___  
She walked slow, her heavy feet dragging through the snow. Her lungs knocked and banged against her ribs, screaming for air or a break. Milly pushed on regardless, her bag hanging loosely around her shoulders. 

The wind was unforgiving, piercing into her exposed skin and biting at anything it could reach. She breathed through the bandana tied around her face and glanced at the sky. It was gradually getting darker, in turn making the temperature drop.

Milly walked for another hour, her body moving sluggishly through the cold. Unable to see very far ahead, she reluctantly settled for bunking out in an abandoned car for the night.

She drew the blanket tightly around her, double checking the locks with stiff hands. She laid on the backseat, eating what little food she had left. Shivers wracked through her body, forcing her to curl in on herself. She closed her eyes and forced her breathing to slow, though her lungs protested vehemently.

Milly imagined she was somewhere else, somewhere warm, and with measured breaths she fell asleep.  
___  
The figure stumbled slowly toward the gate, its steps anything but careful and calculated. Tara raised her brows curiously. Walkers hadn't been around as much since the snow had fallen, most of them too frozen to move. The Alexandrian's had used it as an opportunity to clear them out as they arrived. 

It wandered closer and closer, feet tripping over one another. Tara whistled down to Rosita, who was down by the gate entrance.

"Walker," Tara pointed, watching as Rosita peeked through a crack.

The gate opened with a loud clang, slamming hard against the wall. Tara jumped down to join Rosita, following behind her. The figure had stopped, its head raising right as Rosita shoved it to the ground.

It hit the ground with a grunt and Rosita on top of it. She jerked the hood off, coming face-to-face with a young girl.

"Fuck, go get help!" She shouted at Tara, her fingers searching for a pulse on the girl's throat. Tara ran back inside, leaving Rosita alone with her.

She couldn't have been any older than 17, with baby pudge still on her cheeks. Her face was red, skin flaking off from the cold. A long scar trailed from her left temple, down over her cheek, and cut into her top lip. Rosita briefly wondered how long the girl had been out there, alone and freezing. The thought was quickly cut off by the sound of approaching feet slamming against the ground.

"What happened?" Rick asked, his eyes wide as he took in the sight before him.

Tara shook her head, "I don't know," she breathed heavily. "I thought she was a walker."

Rick picked the girl up effortlessly and ran, yelling for them to close the gate. His feet carried him quickly to the infirmary, Tara right on his heels.

His mind flashed back to running with a wounded Carl in his arms, back when things were a bit more simple. Before they had Negan looming over their heads, demanding anything and everything.

The door slammed open, Denise jumping at the loud noise. She looked at Rick, then Tara, and then the girl in his arms.

By the time she was laid out on the bed her pulse had slowed, almost nonexistent. Denise started pulling the layers of clothes off, tossing the bag and jackets onto the floor.  
___  
The snow crunched underneath Milly's boots, the sound all but surrounding her. It was cold, her joints stiff and uncooperative.

She walked, slow and seemingly in circles. Her breaths came harder and harder, lungs on fire and constricting with each breath.

The heat started on her left side, then slowly started spreading upwards. Milly hit the ground, slamming down hard into the snow, but it wasn't cold. She fought against it, kicking her heavy legs and screaming until her lungs felt like they were caving in.

Something held her down, heat spreading through both forearms and up into her biceps. She jerked uncontrollably, her body convulsing. The heat continued to travel through her body, reaching her ankles and toes.  
___  
Her ears were ringing and no matter how hard she tried to, she couldn't open her eyes. Someone was groaning loudly and it sounded so close, almost like it was inside of her head.

Panic swelled up in her chest, but she couldn't move. She couldn't run or fight back.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Someone spoke quickly, "you're alright. It's safe."

"What's wrong with her?" A concerned male voice wiggled its way into Milly's mind.

"She had a seizure," The first voice answered, "it's normal."

Using all of the effort she could muster, Milly opened her eyes. White light assaulted them, but she fought to keep them open.

She was disoriented and there were people standing over her, eyes awash with worry. She jerked up, regretting it immediately when her body protested and forced a primal cry out of her mouth.

The woman slowly eased her back down onto the bed, "Take it slow."

Milly opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by a fit of coughs tearing at her throat. Her body ached as she heaved and jerked with the coughs.

"Here, drink this," The woman held a glass of water to Milly's cracked lips, the cool liquid relieving her scratchy throat.

"I'm Denise," she pointed to herself, then jutted a finger over at the man. "and that's Aaron."

Milly shivered, her skin still clammy. Denise wrapped a blanket around her, being careful not to spook the young girl.

"I'm Milly." Her voice cracked as she glanced down at the glass in her hands. "Where am I?"

The door opened abruptly, making Milly jump and drop the glass. It shattered on impact, the glass shards slipping across the white floor.

"Shit, sorry, I'm sorry," a woman apologized, slamming the door behind her. "fuck, sorry."

Milly relaxed slowly, watching as Denise swept up the broken glass. The new girl walked slowly toward the bed, a Tupperware dish in her hands.

"Hi, I'm Tara," she introduced herself sheepishly, "sorry I scared you."

"Milly." She whispered, tugging the blanket closer around her shoulders.

"Oh, uh, here," Tara reached out, offering the dish to Milly. "Maggie sent this over, thought you might be hungry if you woke up."

After a moments hesitation, she reached out to accept the dish and spoon from Tara. It looked like soup, or maybe a stew. 

"Where am I?" She asked again, curiously popping the lid off and smelling of the contents. Beef stew, minus the beef.

"A place called Alexandria," Aaron smiled, speaking for the first time since Milly had become perfectly conscious. "don't worry, it's safe here."  
___  
The food had warmed Milly's body, her stomach full for the first time in weeks. Tara was kind of enough to bring her a second bowl, filled to the brim.

When asked what she remembered, she told them about the gate. Seeing it in the distance, a figure standing atop it. Milly told them about walking, though she didn't know how long.

"How long have I been here?" She asked, gratefully accepting the change of clothes from Tara's hands.

"A couple of days," Denise paused, "we weren't sure if you were going to wake up."

She wobbled into the bathroom, her body still not functioning properly. Once the door clicked behind her, she allowed herself to droop to the floor. Coughs would periodically force her to her knees, but she was just tired this time.

Milly changed while sitting down, stripping her bottoms and top off with little effort. The pants Tara had loaned her were too long and a little too loose around the waist, but they were warm.

She wiggled her toes around in the clean socks as she stood, grateful that she could now feel her feet.

Rejoining the group near the bed, she noticed another person standing at the door. They all looked at her, standing there with her dirty clothes gripped tight in her arms.

The man turned around, a gray beard sitting neatly on his chin. His eyes examined the scar on her face, tracing it from top to bottom.

He cleared his throat and gave a small, reassuring smile, "I'm Rick."

Milly shook his outstretched hand, feeling the hard callouses against her palm, "Milly."  
___  
They all talked around her for a bit, discussing where she would stay and if she was healthy enough to leave the infirmary.

It was decided that she would stay with Tara, who lived right next to Denise. Milly just agreed with a soft nod. If she had to crash with one of them, she'd choose Tara.

Denise sent them to Tara's place with a couple of handfuls of medicine and directions on what to do if an emergency happened.

The pale afternoon sun glared condescendingly down at Milly, forcing her to squint as she walked. People stared at them, watching as she followed closely by Tara's side.

The door opened and Milly was hit with a wave of heat, making her shiver. Tara dropped the medicines onto a table by the couch and turned around to smiled at Milly.

"Mi casa es su casa," Tara waved her arms and motioned around the living room.

Milly didn't quite understand the statement, but she nodded anyway and whispered a soft "thank you."

Tara led her to her room, where a small pile of clothes awaited her on the mattress.

"If you need anything just yell, I'll be around somewhere," Tara said, gently closing the door behind her.

Milly kicked her shoes off and crawled onto the bed, slipping slowly underneath the covers. Her eyes drifted shut, exhaustion taking over her tired body.  
___  
It was a community, full of people who waved and greeted her with smiles. Only a few of them lingered on her scar as Tara introduced them over the next couple of days.

They saw Rick, who was standing at the gate with his hands on his hips. The dark skinned woman in front of him smiled softly, reaching up to stroke his face. Her eyes looked almost sad.

Milly glanced around, her eyes scanning over people. Some she had met, most she hadn't. Her eyes stopped on a Sheriffs hat, perched a little too loosely on a young man's head.

He glanced up, his one good eye catching both of Milly's green ones. Unable to stop herself, she examined his face and the rough bandage wrapped around his eye. Milly glanced at the young baby in his arms, whose fingers were tangled in his long brown locks.

The boy looked away, his attention being drawn back to the baby in his arms. Milly caught up with Tara, her body exhausted from the two second jog.

When he looked back up, the girl was walking away. His baby sister moved around in his arms, shivering as the wind picked up.

"C'mon, Judy, let's head inside," he spoke softly, bouncing her up and down as he ascended the porch steps.

He looked behind him as he approached the front door and caught a glimpse of dull blonde hair disappearing into the Rhee's house.


	2. Chapter Two

A week after Milly arrived the sun had started peeking through the trees, casting shadows onto the ground and melting the snow.

Minus the occasional rattle in her chest and a fit of coughs here and there, she was doing exceptionally better. Tara had helped her to feel comfortable in Alexandria.

Milly had met a lot of people, most of them very forgettable. She remembered Rick and Rosita, Michonne and Daryl, and of course Maggie and Glenn. She spent a lot of time at the Rhee's house, helping a very pregnant Maggie with whatever she needed.

Oh, and she remembered Carl. He was a hard one to forget with a perpetual frown, a missing eye, and his baby sister constantly cradled in his arms.

And of course, there was stuff Milly wished she could forget. Such as the conversation with Rosita about Negan, who apparently had Alexandria and many other communities under his grubby little thumb.

She tossed her daily dose of medicine into her mouth and swallowed the pills dry, which Tara always chastised her for.

"I'm heading out," Tara smiled, her bag thrown over her shoulder. "I'll see you in a week or two."

Milly nodded, watching as Tara disappeared out of their front door. She was going on a run with Heath, a kind man who was quiet and hardly ever around.

She settled her feet sternly on the floor, her shoes placed side-by-side to her left. Her fingers worked slowly, with a distracted sort of ease.

A thick coat wrapped around Milly, though the temperature outside warranted for a much thinner one for most people. She wasn't completely better and she was taking no risks.

People waved at her on her way to Maggie's, some of them even stopping her to ask how she was feeling. She appreciated the people in Alexandria, they were kind and had helped her settle in quickly.

"Hey!" Maggie greeted her at the door, smiling. "I wasn't expecting to see you today."

Milly stepped inside, returning Maggie's smile. Thick voices traveled from the kitchen, breaching the wall that separated it and the living room.

She followed behind Maggie, allowing herself to be led into the kitchen. Glenn and Rick leaned against the counter, faces serious and edging on tense. Carl sat quietly at the table, his one blue eye so focused on the two conversing by the sink.

They noticed her quickly, their dim faces twisting into a smile thinly veiling their the dark look in their eyes.

"Milly, hey," Glenn said awkwardly, leaning heavily against the countertop.

With a sinking feeling Milly realized she was interrupting, not sure what, but she had intruded on something serious.

"Just wanted to drop by and say hey," she cleared her throat and jutted her thumb over her shoulder. "I'm gonna head out."

Her feet had carried her away from Maggie's protests and out the front door. She had forgotten that she was still an outsider, that she didn't know the Alexandrian's.

Once she was away from the front door, she slowed her pace and heaved out an unsteady breath. She felt safe in Alexandria, but she had gotten too comfortable. These people had survived a long time, meaning they weren't strangers to doing whatever it took to live another day. Didn't matter how many bowls of beef-less beef stew they made or how often they checked in on her. These people were not her friends.  
___  
A resounding knock shook Milly out of her focused haze, the map crinkling under her fingertips. She looked at the coffee table in front of her, pieces of crumpled up paper scattered across it and an empty glass sat on the very edge, threatening to tip off.

The second knock forced her up onto her feet, a little hitch in her step. Her body really wasn't as healed as she wished it was.

Carl stood broodingly on the porch, his shoulders squared and stiff with tension.

"Maggie asked me to drop this off with you," he quipped, holding the plastic wrapped dish out to her.

Milly blinked once, twice, then very slowly took the bowl from him. He stood there, his eyes wandering inside and landing on the coffee table. His brow furrowed.

"Oh," she paused, shifting to block his view. "Thank you."

For once his hat wasn't sitting haphazardly on his head and she wondered briefly why he wore the thing in the first place.

Carl opened his mouth to speak, dimples denting his freckled cheeks. He closed his mouth before he uttered a word.

The silence between them was thick and uncomfortable, but neither of the teens moved. The heat from the dish pricked at Milly's fingertips, burning her hands, in turn it's what made her cave.

"Would you, uh, like to come in?" She asked hesitantly, her realization from earlier in the day still fresh in her mind.

To her shock, he nodded and followed her over the threshold. The door clicked soundly behind them, a sort of finality settling over the room.

She walked into the kitchen, leaving Carl to observe her map. Milly made quick work of un-wrapping the dish and distributing half of the stew into a second bowl.

He was bent over and scanning the map when she stepped back into the living room, his eye traveling over the marks she had made.

Carl startled slightly when she cleared her throat, craning his neck around to see her. She held the dish out to him and watched as he hesitantly accepted it.

The couch welcomed her weight and then his as he sat, his back stiff as a rod.

"It's Carl, right?" Milly asked slowly, afraid of startling the boy.

He swallowed thickly, "Yeah."

She decided he wasn't a fan of using words and they sat there silently, enjoying their meal. The room was tense, his eye constantly catching on the map.

He spoke only when his bowl was empty, "Do you plan on leaving?"

The question shouldn't have caught her off guard, but it did nonetheless. She sat her bowl on the clear side of the table and turned to face him.

"Maybe," Milly replied simply, not allowing herself to grow comfortable in his presence.

His lips pursed thoughtfully as she took the bowl from his hands and walked it to the kitchen. She took a moment, staring into the sink.

Alexandria was safe, she knew that. The people were friendly and welcoming, but occasionally secretive. It was a comfortable place to be, especially after being alone so long after the Oasis community. People became harder to trust after that, so she strayed, but she needed people. Safety in numbers, except when those numbers turn on you.

"Negan," Carl spoke from behind her, prompting her to drop the glass bowl into the sink. It shattered on impact, glass scattering across the counter and onto the floor.

She spun to look at him, "What?"

He looked surprised, eyeing the mess around her. Milly bent to start picking up the shards of glass, being careful where she stepped. Carl crouched beside her, his arm bumping hers as they worked together. The heat from his arm soaked through her sweater and her hand slipped, a piece of glass wedging itself into her palm.

"God dammit," she swore, blood pooling on the floor.  
___  
After struggling for 10 minutes to slow the bleeding and get her shoes on, Carl accompanied her over to Denise's house.

She answered the door in her pajamas and Milly felt guilty, though Denise just ushered them into her dining room and ran to grab her first aid kit.

"What about Negan?" She asked, looking at Carl.

He leaned against the wall and cleared his throat, "We were talking about a war with Negan."

For a moment it didn't make sense, but just as Denise entered the room it clicked. Milly looked at him, not understanding why he would tell her information that clearly wasn't entrusted to everyone.

She whined when Denise pulled the glass out of her hand, a rush of blood spilling out. The red soaked through her pants as Denise worked quickly to clean and stitch it up.

It was over quickly, her hand bandaged and not quite good as new but better than before. Carl walked her back and silently helped her clean the kitchen up.

The floor was a mess, covered in blood and broken glass. She swept slowly, her mind in a fog. The blood was cleaned up easily enough, but she'd be finding shards of glass for days.

"Why did you tell me?" Milly broke at the front door, unable to keep the question out of her mouth.

He shrugged and stepped onto the porch, "Thought maybe you'd rethink leaving."

She was quiet, watching as he walked down the porch steps and disappeared into the dark.  
___  
Carl eased the door open, not wanting to wake Judy or Michonne. He padded across the floor and into the living room, sitting to unlace his shoes.

"You were gone a while," Michonne says from behind him, her voice soft. 

He stood to face her, "Maggie asked me to drop some food off at Tara's house."

"That took you an hour?" She asked skeptically, her brows lifting.

"Milly cut her hand on a piece of glass," he paused and absentmindedly rubbed the bandage around his eye. "so I walked her to Denise."

Carl left out the part about the map, where Milly had tracked her way to Florida. It wasn't an important piece of information, unlike the tidbit he had shared with Milly.

She had survived on her own, and judging from the scar on her face it hadn't been easy. She was a valuable asset to Alexandria, probably in more ways than they knew.

And if he liked the way her voice calmed him, well, that wasn't an important piece of information, either.  
___  
The gate slammed open at dawn, the sun barely above the hills. Negan strode in easily, Lucille swinging by his side. 

People stepped out of their homes to watch him, their eyes wary and afraid. A face he had never seen before stood amongst them, her dull blonde hair framing her scarred face.

His men dispersed throughout the community, in search of Rick Grimes. Michonne tensed and said he was gone, due back later in the day.

Negan waltzed from person to person, his eyes scanning each fearful face. He looked at her again, her eyes cool and her expression unbothered. She looked sleepy, almost as if he had stomped all over her sweet fucking dreams.

Lucille clung to his shoulder as he whistled, walking toward her and passing the Asian kid on the way.

She looked at him, the scar on her face creasing as her brows furrowed. Negan came to a stop, his whistle carrying on the wind.

People fanned out around her, putting distance between themselves and Negan. One person held their ground, his singular blue eye staring the older man down.

Negan snorted, "Well, don't you two sweethearts look like two halves of a fucked up whole."


	3. Chapter Three

The wind swept through her hair, twirling it around her face. Her toes twitched, itching to get away from the cold ground beneath them.

She returned his gaze, her eyes locked determinedly on his. Negan wasn't what she expected. Milly expected someone who looked as evil as he was supposed to be, but instead he looked like maybe he could've been kind at some point in his life.

Carl was stood firmly behind her, watching as Negan grinned at the girl in something liken to admiration. He stepped forward, not quite in between the two but enough for Negan to tear his gaze from the girl.

"So fucking precious!" he bellowed, his smile wide and toothy and his bat thrust into the air.  
___  
Alexandria felt suffocating with Negan there, like he was taking up all of the space. He was big and overbearing, taking everything he wanted with no regards for anyone else.

Milly watched as he smiled, danced around the community like he owned it. She could see it, though. Just below the surface was a man full of chaos and malice, someone who had murdered people and destroyed whatever he pleased.

Carl hadn't left her side. He didn't say a word, just claimed the spot beside her. It wasn't necessary, but it was comforting enough for Milly to not say anything.

She walked slowly, her bare feet slapping against the ground. Maggie met her halfway and if she noticed that Carl was a little too close to Milly, she didn't say so.

"How long is he going to be here?" Milly asked, flexing her frozen toes.

Maggie shook her head, "I don't know."

A shiver tore through Milly's body, reaching bone deep. She flexed her cut hand, noticing that fresh blood had seeped through the bandage.

"You need to get inside," Maggie smiled softly, wrapping her arm around Milly's shoulders.  
___  
She stared out of Tara's living room window, her feet warming inside thick socks and her hand freshly bandaged.

Carl stood silently next to Michonne, never taking his eyes off of Negan. The man wandered from house to house, finally making himself comfortable on Rick's front porch.

Maggie emerged from the kitchen, a steaming mug in hand.

"Here, drink this," she placed the cup gently into Milly's good hand. "I'm going to go check on things."

Maggie tossed a smile over her shoulder as she exited the house, leaving Milly alone. The couch accepted her weight without so much as a creak.

Things were eerily quiet, so she drank her coffee and pulled her folded up map from underneath the table.

It spread out with a loud crinkle of paper, the stickers still in place from where she had spent the night before tracking her way to Florida.

She stared at the lines, her eyes unfocused. Her hand prickled in pain as the hot mug pressed into the cut, the steam traveling through the air around her.

Milly's mind drifted from one thing to the next until the cup was empty and her feet were toasty. The house felt small, with no noise to distract her from the big bad wolf just outside her windows.

The front door opened slowly, the hinges protesting in return. She turned expecting to see Maggie, but was greeted by a blue eye.

He shut the door behind him and scratched the back of his neck. His gaze traveled from the map, across the floor and landed on Milly.

"I know a way outside the wall."

Carl left it at that, not exactly implying anything but allowing Milly to draw her own conclusions.  
___  
The trees surrounded them, towering high and strong. Wind ate at the branches, making them heave and whine.

Milly pulled her jacket closer, attempting to shut out the biting cold. The sound of sticks crunching underneath their shoes filled the air around them.

"Do you do this often?" She asked, stepping up to Carl's side.

He shrugged, "Sometimes."

She cleared her throat and forced her hands deeper into the coat pockets, "Why today?"

Carl glanced at her, his hat tilting with his head. He turned his gaze away after a moment, opting to look forward.

Silence followed them uninterruptedly, wrapping around them like a thick blanket. They approached a small shack, the wood rickety and old.

The inside was decidedly nicer than the outside, with a small gas heater and comics spread across the floor. Empty food wrappers made the occasional appearance, some tangled in the duvet in the far right corner.

Carl lit the stove quickly, the smell of gas filling the air around them. Milly sat with her face to the heater and picked up an upside down comic.

They read in a comfortable silence, the heat quickly filling the small building.

"How'd it happen?" He asked suddenly, drawing Milly's attention from the faded pages of the book in hand.

His eye was tracing the long scar on her face, from top to bottom. She absentmindedly reached up and dragged a finger down the length of it.

Oasis flooded her mind, her back going ramrod straight. The comic dropped to the dusty floor, fluttering around her crossed ankles.

He didn't back off, didn't retract his question. He just stared at her, waiting patiently for a response.

"I..." she paused, her voice unsure.

Carl lowered his comic, attention focused solely on Milly. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, resembling a fish of sorts.

"I was in this community, Oasis," she spoke in a voice barely more than a whisper.

Her fingers twisted around each other, "It was good, the people were good. My family found it months into the shit storm and decided we'd be better off with walls, with more people."

Her voice wavered slightly as she mentioned her family, images flashing through her head. Milly stared at the floor, unable to look up.

"I don't know how long we were there, but we'd made it home amongst the other people. The walls were high, we had food and water, and even a couple of doctors. There were kids, only a handful of them, really. My brother and I stayed to ourselves for the most part, though. My dad helped build the community, made it bigger."

Milly stopped, her eyes slowly raising from the floor. Carl was listening intently, his eye boring into her face.

"We started getting more people, more than we could handle. Food started to dwindle and things got harder, which meant people started growing desperate. My mom started keeping us inside all the time, away from whatever was going on outside, but we'd hear it through the walls. The people arguing over who deserved what and what they were going to take regardless of what was said or done.

Things were tense and started escalating as the weather grew colder. People were at each other's necks, ready to snap and finally that's what happened."

Milly gauged Carl's reactions, something like understanding and curiosity was etched into face.

"It was late and a gunshot echoed through the air, followed by screams. I was asleep and I remember hearing my mom outside my window, screaming for someone to just hold on. There was snow on the ground when I stepped outside. My dad's blood covered the ground and my little brother was stood on the porch. 

My mom was just cradling his head, crouched on her knees in the snow. She...she reached for my dad's gun, but-"

Milly broke off, her voice cracking. Sympathy joined the understanding on Carl's face.

"They shot her, right in front of us. Gunshots spread like wildfire after that, bodies dropping to the ground. My brother was just screaming and my mind wasn't processing everything fast enough. Somehow in all of the chaos, the gate was opened. Walkers started pouring in, grabbing anyone who wasn't already dead in the snow.

I tried to drag my brother inside but he wouldn't move, he stood there screaming and staring at our parents. He was snatched away before I could even pick him up. A walker just, just tore into him. H-His neck and then his face and his screams just stopped."

The curiosity was no longer on his face, instead his lips were turned down into a frown. Hot tears dropped down her cheeks, painting the dusty floor a shade darker when they landed.

"You don't have to finish," Carl spoke quietly, filling the air that Milly had left empty around them.

The heat from the heater dried the tear tracks on her face, leaving her cheeks too stiff. She picked her comic back up and stared at the dull cover.

Carl cleared his throat, "I was shot."

Milly's head slowly raised up, watching as he uncomfortably tugged the bandage from his face.

Carl's voice dropped to a lower pitch as he explained about Rick killing Ron's dad, the Wolves and the herd, the shot that was meant for Rick but was received by him instead.

The angry red abrasion cut deep into his socket and traveled part way down his cheek. He clutched the bandage in his hands, as if he was itching to put it back on.

Milly nodded slowly, focusing her eyes on his one good one.

"On the upside, you kind of look like a pirate," Milly replied carefully, unsure of how he'd take it. She knew it was the right thing to say when he cracked a small smile.  
___  
Milly pulled the stickers from her map, watching the course to Florida disappear. She held the stickers in her palm, feeling far heavier than they actually were.

Her lungs ached from being in the cold all day, reminding her that she needed to keep on top of her medication. That she needed to stay inside more.

The stickers fluttered to the floor as she stood, a stray one clinging to her palm. She wanted Tara to be back, so she didn't have to spend her nights wrapped in silence. 

She placed the tea kettle on the burner and draped herself over the countertop.


End file.
